Heaven's Harlots: My Fifteen Years in a Sex Cult by Miriam Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

yet?”
    “Yes,” I said, thinking that this seemed to be the criterion for visiting them. I was thrilled to be going to a real Children of God commune.
    “Great,” said the boy. “Well, take them on the bus and get them filled with the Spirit. Oh, and give them some food if they are hungry.” He seemed genuinely happy and concerned for us. This was a pleasant change from the treatment we had received since coming to New York.
    I entered the bus with excited apprehension. All the seats had been taken out, and there were blankets and pillows all over the floor.
    Someone was handing out sandwiches from a cardboard box at the front.
    I took a sandwich and followed Praise to the back. Daisy had been taken by a girl to another part of the bus.
    Once we sat on the floor of the bus, Praise quickly took control of the conversation. She was a totally spaced-out girl who punctuated every sentence with “Praise the Lord,” or “Hallelujah.” She talked to me nonstop about the Bible, the Holy Spirit, Jesus’ message of telling the world about salvation, loving others like yourself, and every other spiritual lesson I had ever heard about in connection with the Bible.
    Only she said it with such sincerity and belief that it came alive.
    The bus began to fill up, and after a while we were packed. The young man who had greeted us stood up at the front.
    “Okay. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord. Is everyone here?” Most of the crowd became quiet and looked at him with respect. He was obviously some kind of group leader.
    “All right. Well, we are going to pull out of New York City now. So everyone who wants to stay in hell better get off, because we are going to heaven.” Half of the people on the bus started screaming, “Hallelujah— praise the Lord—we love you, Jesus,” in a confused type of unison.
    A few people left. Daisy and I stayed on.
    “Praise the Lord,” said the man again. “I see we have some new people coming up with us. I hope you are all saved and filled with the Spirit. If you have any questions, please ask the people sitting next to you. I want you to be sure you know where you are going.” I wasn’t sure if he meant where we are going when we die, or right now.
    But since I knew both of these answers, I didn’t ask anyone.
    After a few minutes, some more people got off the bus.
    “Okay. Let’s say a prayer for this old bus and get going. I don’t know if we have gas or not. The gauge doesn’t work. But God is not bound by a gas gauge, is He?” The bus gave an uproar of “Hallelujahs” again.
    The man led us in a spirited prayer, which was interspersed with more “Praise the Lords” and emphatic “Amens” from the crowd.
    I wrapped myself in a blanket I found next to me since it was getting cold and the prayer was long. Finally, the bus started up. Another round of praises!
    Praise brought the other boy back to our corner. I found out that his name was Ezra. Evidently, he had been in the Children of God (COG) less time than Praise, indicated by the way he kept looking to her for approval of what he said.
    “I think Miriam might want to ask the Holy Spirit in,” said Praise, “and I thought you might like to be here, since she is your sheep. ” Ezra and Praise quoted all the verses they knew on the Holy Spirit, what it meant to be filled with the Spirit, and what would happen to me afterward. They protested when I told them I had already been baptized, saying that was not really enough. I looked out the window at the dirty city going by, so happy to be leaving it. Why should I not ask the Spirit in again? It seemed to mean so much to them, and it certainly would not hurt.
    “Okay,” I said,“I’ll ask the Spirit to fill me.” Praise gave a squeaky sound of delight, and she called over a few more people to pray with me. Suddenly there were about a dozen pair of hands on my head, shoulders, and back. While Ezra led a prayer asking the Holy Spirit to fill me, the people holding me captive